Strays
by ladeste
Summary: 16 Divisions. 16 Commanders. Edward Newgate had always wanted a family, so just how did Whitebeard collect 15 of his top ranking sons? Whitebeard Pirates centric.
1. Prologue: Edward Newgate

Disbanded.

That had been the word his Captain had used when talking to the crew that morning.

His Captain had decided that at age 65 he had 'earned' his retirement from piracy and was no longer going to continue sailing the seas.

If there was one thing Edward Newgate knew, it was that he would never retire. Even if his hair turned grey or fell out all together, he would die fighting side by side with his crew.

A crew which currently did not exist.

The ship he had been sailing on was to be sold, the money funding the Captain's remaining years.

Whilst several of the crew had been disappointed, more had been shocked at the suddenness of the decision.

The First Mate of the ship had said that he would step up to be a captain, for those that wished to continue with him, but with no boat, the reality was that most were more interested in going their own way.

The abandonment of the crew had left a number of the crew disgruntled, with a series of mutinous mutterings being whispered under breath.

The damage to some was irreparable, and like Newgate, many had chosen to cut their losses and move on to other crews or carve their own path.

This had left the 35 year old man strolling around the backstreets of a nameless town, pondering his next course of action.

There was one particular train of thought that lingered persistently in his mind.

Since as early as he could remember he had longed for a family.

Growing up as an orphan, watching other children being looked after and loved had made him crave and treasure the idea of a family above all else.

A family that protected one another, that shared what they had no matter how much or how little that was. One that was accepting and encouraging.

To have someone there for you, to pick you up when you fell and guide you back onto life's track.

Gold, jewels, money...

All of it was worthless in comparison to having a family. He would give all of it away to protect even just one person that he called family.

He had mentioned it once when he had first become a pirate.

The crew had laughed, strong hands slapping him on the back as they told him that people who thought like that were dead men walking.

"_There ain't no such thing as a family on the sea lad. There's ya crew but it's each man for himself, when it comes down ta a fight."_

That had been the moment that he had know that the crew would only be his temporary home. He would stay whilst he learnt the ropes, and understood the seas well enough to protect his own crew – the family he would build for himself.

He may not have mentioned it again whilst in the crew, but the dream had never faded, never dimmed, it merely waited beneath the surface for the right time.

Now, with his release from the crew, Newgate knew that this was finally his time.

The conundrum he faced was therefore not _what_ he was going to do with himself, because to him that was a foregone conclusion, but the _how_ still eluded him.

His decision had been clouded earlier in the day by one of the older members of the crew who had wandered around the town with him for a while.

He was a perceptive man, with the unassuming name of John Bart Junior. He was perhaps the only man on board, that hadn't laughed or forgotten about Newgate's words on finding a family all those years ago.

"You're still a youngin' lad, why don't you find a nice lass and start a family."

Newgate's response had been a noncommittal 'Mhm' sound.

"At least think about it lad."

Newgate was slightly caught out by the sincerity in Bart's tone.

Examining the elder man's face, he found himself nodding to the request as his mind processed the expression of remorse.

Remorse over an opportunity lost to time.

"I'll think about it."

The corners of the weathered lips quirked up into a slight smile, as Bart nodded back.

"Good lad. I wish you luck in making your family."

Newgate didn't reply as he watched Bart chose a different direction and head off into the distance.

The encounter had disturbed the relatively calm waters of his mind, however not in the way one might expect.

It was the remorse over lost opportunities that had sparked his internal unease.

_A life without regrets, without remorse, was a life well lived._

That had always been his mantra.

The sea would always be his mistress, and no other woman could take her place. Settling down to 'make' a family was not the type of family he was after.

Turning his back on the sea...

A shiver tingled down his spine as his thoughts froze. He couldn't imagine a life without her; the sea was in his very blood.

No, he needed a sea fairing family.

However, it seemed that no one believed that he could live the life of a pirate and still have a family. Perhaps, they perceived him as having a mentality of 'wanting his cake, and eating it too'.

He would do it though.

He would have his family, protect it, and still live life out on the seas, it was just a matter of _how_.

It wasn't just a matter of how he would form his family, but a matter of how he could do it and have none of his family regret their own decisions.

Newgate stroked his growing moustache in contemplation.

It would be difficult, of that he had no doubt.

But he would prove them wrong.

Everyone deserved a life without regrets, and he would make sure that his family would have just that.

No regrets or die trying.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Newgate's eyes narrowed in a fierce determination.

The questions of how, no longer mattered.

His family was out there waiting for him, and it was up to him to find them.


	2. The First Son

Newgate had waited until the next morning to purchase his first boat. It was a decent size. Small enough that he could probably manage by himself until the next island, but large enough to comfortably house his own body size, as well as eight or nine others. This was of course, providing that they had relatively normal heights in comparison to his own frame.

After securing the boat in the small bay, he had once again travelled into the town, this time sticking to the main streets as he looked for the numerous supplies he would need for the journey.

So far he had managed to amalgamate most of the food into a few bags, but there were still a few other items that he needed, mostly navigation equipment.

Stretching out his shoulders, Newgate paused momentarily before continuing on down the street.

At first he had thought it was his imagination, his body reverting back to its defensive, hyper-awareness, that came with travelling alone. However, he was now certain.

He was being followed.

It wasn't the Marines. He was sure of it.

He'd never encountered a Marine that had enough patience to simply watch a Pirate go about his business before going in to strike, the first give-away.

His second clue stemmed from the fact that whoever the person was, they were doing a damn good job of staying hidden.

Marine's rarely had a level of stealth equivalent to his follower.

They were much too sloppy.

Most were simply thugs in a uniform, their usual attack method being to charge at their intended victim like a bull stampeding towards the matador.

The tactic was loud, brainless, and a marvellously brilliant way to waste energy when moving in to engage with the enemy.

No.

His tracker was too smart and too well versed in the art of stealth to be a Marine.

That of course left him with the dilemma of how to lure the person in close enough, that he could then turn around and nab them before they cottoned on to the fact that he knew.

Selecting a less crowded street, Newgate veered left, stopping every couple of stalls looking at what they had to offer and occasionally enquiring about a price, just as he had all morning.

Continuing along the path, he eyed off a deserted alleyway.

_Perfect_.

Sliding into the shadows, Newgate leant against the wall, a patient predator.

His wait was rewarded as a small figure came closer, unaware of his hidden presence.

With a grin Newgate lunged at _his_ prey.

"AH! That hurts yoi! Let me go!"

Newgate's grin widened as we watched the squirming limbs of a young teen, struggle to escape the headlock he had been trapped in.

"So you're the runt that's been following me."

"I'm not a runt! It's not my fault you're freaking huge! Now let. Me. GO!"

Highly entertained by the losing battle the kid was fighting, Newgate promptly released his grip, watching as the boy crashed into the ground.

Rubbing his head, the unfortunate part of his anatomy that managed to hit the ground first, the teen glared silently at the man that had ruined his day's haul.

"Don't you have better things to do all day then follow people brat?"

'The brat' remained silent, ignoring the jab at his activity.

His eyelids, having been wide open whilst he was under attack, returned to their half lidded state. A ploy that usually caught people off guard, thinking he wasn't a threat, or made them merely overlook him entirely.

This was the first time in a long time that he had actually been caught at all.

More often than not, the person he targeted wouldn't even realise that their purchases were gone until well after he'd disappeared back into the crowd.

In the off occasion he didn't blend into the crowd in time, his speed had always managed to get him out of trouble.

This was the first time he had been caught and not been able to escape.

Physically, he knew he couldn't fight the man off.

The man had also proved himself to be faster than one would think... but with the correct type of distraction, his own speed was not a possibility to discount.

For the moment though, with no immediate opportunities jumping at him, he chose to hold his tongue, and hope the man wouldn't react violently to his attempted robbery.

"Guarararara."

Of the outcomes that had been planned within his mind, the man throwing back his head in laughter had definitely not been one of them.

Thinking it may be his only chance, he pushed to his feet, sprinting towards the open end of the alley.

He could almost taste the freedom the crowded street offered.

"Not so fast kid."

A giant hand clasped around the back of his shirt, lifting him away from the ground.

_Why today, of all days, did he button up the stupid shirt?_

A growl emitted from his chest as he was brought up to the man's eye level.

A minute passed with neither saying a word.

The silence was broken with Newgate releasing another thunderous laugh.

The teen hung helplessly, unable to do anything else but wait for the laughter to subside.

A wide grin crossed Newgate's face as he attempted to start his 'interrogation'.

"Now, why's a brat like you, attempting to steal off 'innocent' visitors?"

Nothing.

Newgate's eye brow rose at the brat's defiance.

"Too hard for you kid? Okay then, we'll start with an easy one. You got a name or am I going to keep calling you 'brat'?"

While he got nothing again verbally, Newgate took the opportunity to examine the brat closely.

The kid's clothes weren't in the best shape, but they were relatively decent, suggesting that the little thief was either good at his job, or stole to supplement whatever other money he had access to.

Judging by the kid's height and approximate weight, Newgate had him pinned at around fourteen, or perhaps a scrawny fifteen to sixteen year old.

Starting to feel the level of scrutiny he was being subjected to he finally caved.

"Fine. Marco. Can you put me down yoi?"

This time, Marco was more prepared for the drop, landing on his feet.

Without even a chance to make another move, Marco found a previously neglected shopping bag thrust in his arms and a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back towards the shops.

The hold was firm, but for a reason Marco couldn't place, it lacked all feeling of intimidation.

"I'm Edward Newgate."

A snarky reply slipped out before Marco could apply his mental filter.

"Like I care old man."

The fingers curled into Marco's shoulder with more pressure than they had been previously. Despite the change in grip, Marco could feel that he wasn't in danger... Not yet anyway.

"You should care. You're going to spend the rest of the afternoon helping me find the supplies I need, since you seem to know your way around here so well."

Heaving the bag over his free shoulder, Marco grumbled intelligible mutterings under his breath, but otherwise resigned to his fate.

This was _not_ what he had planned for his day.

The pair wandered back onto the busier streets, Newgate taking his time at each stall.

The stalls sold a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables, each offering a unique taste.

Newgate wasn't so much interested in what they had to offer though. He had the food he needed. What he needed now was to crack the harden walls of his second shadow.

It had taken longer than he anticipated, suggesting that the kid could be calm headed, something that would possibly develop with age, but he was still a teen-aged boy with the equivalent level of patience.

"What are you even looking for yoi? You can't seriously be just browsing!"

Smirking down at Marco, his gaze said it all.

None of these stalls had what he was looking for. All the old man had been doing was waiting to see how long it would take him to say something.

Exasperated, Marco let out a sigh.

"You're crazy old man."

"I'm not old, brat. We are looking for navigation supplies."

"If I'm a brat, you're old, old man."

Newgate didn't reply as he watched Marco scan their surroundings. A slight drop in the kid's shoulders indicated that he was unhappy about something.

Marco internally groaned as he realised that, whether consciously or not, they had ended up on the opposite side of town to where the town's single navigation shop was.

"The shop's over near the bay. This way."

The teen doubled back down the street they had just walked up, Newgate, having released Marco's shoulder, walked slightly behind him, using the opportunity to make further observations.

Another piece clicked into place as Newgate noticed the way Marco walked with his head tilted down. It was a blaringly obvious method of avoiding eye contact with adults walking past.

Of the adults who recognised Marco, their expression seemed limited to pity, disgust or superiority.

He knew the expressions well.

They were the ones that had he had been exposed to many times before.

Together they screamed one word.

Orphan.

Newgate's mood shifted slightly, not to one of pity for Marco, but to one of understanding.

"You got any family kid?"

Marco glanced back, his stride faltering as he took in the question.

Reading Newgate's expression, Marco knew that the old man knew.

There was no point denying the truth.

"No."

Marco watched closely as Newgate nodded, but didn't probe any further.

The man was strange, bizarre even, but if Marco was going to spending the rest of his day running errands he decided that he may as well not do it in silence.

"You?"

"Not yet."

Marco was admittedly confused by the response. It was a pretty straight forward question. You either had a family or you didn't. 'Not yet' implied that there he didn't have one currently, but then...

"You have a girlfriend?"

"No."

Now Marco was getting frustrated. How the hell did you start a conversation with someone who answered monosyllabically?

Newgate however didn't bother to hide his grin, knowing completely what he was doing to the brat.

As Marco folded his arms across his chest, Newgate decided to throw him a bone.

"I'm a pirate kid. The only woman that will ever have my heart is the sea. My crew will be my family."

Finally making it to the shop, the pair paused their conversation as they went inside the small building.

Picking up an errant compass that seemed to be unable to lock onto north, Marco moved alongside Newgate as he searched for what he needed.

"How many are in your crew?"

"At the moment, it's you and me kid."

Nodding his head absently, Marco put the broken compass back down.

As he went to pick up another item, he froze, blinking rapidly as the words registered in his head.

"Me... What? Are you for real yoi? Why would you want me? I'm a 'runt' and a 'brat' remember?"

"Gurarara! You're a runt now, but you'll grow. Besides, you might be a brat, but you'll be my brat. That is if you're willing."

Marco fell silent at what he considered to be a proposal to join Newgate's crew.

He barely knew the man, not to mention the old man had already said that his crew would be his family.

Did that mean he wanted him as family?

The concept seemed so foreign to him, and yet, he couldn't stop the feelings of pleasure every time he thought of finally having a family.

Could he really accept such a proposal?

The 'proposal' however, was a statement of fact. For reason's Newgate couldn't fully understand, he knew that Marco was special.

There was something more to him than just being a bratty teenaged kid.

Picking up a drafting compass to examine, Newgate found a different one being place in front of him.

Marco didn't look him in the eye, still evaluating the pro's and con's of going out to sea with a Captain that he'd only met this morning (and tried to rob..._ did that count as mutiny?_).

"This one's better -yoi. It has a stronger point and won't slip around when you use it. It's also a better price."

Newgate smiled as he put the one in his hand down, instead picking up the one Marco had suggested.

The kid clearly knew a bit about navigation.

That was always good.

Newgate was broken out of his reprieve by Marco.

"So what are we called?"

Ignoring the question, Newgate paid for the equipment he (and Marco) had gathered, and headed out into the afternoon sun.

"Don't tell me we don't have a name? You can't be a Captain of a crew with no name! No name. No crew. That's the way it works."

"Does it now..."

He was definitely amused. Only a few hours early the brat had been refusing to say anything, and now it seemed he had an opinion on everything.

Hopefully he would grow out of that as well...

The pair fell into silence once more, Marco's mind working furiously to come up with a name.

Slapping a fist into his open palm, Marco had it.

"The Whitebeard Pirates."

Newgate glanced at his newest family member out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't have a beard."

Marco looked at him incredulously.

"Sure you do, it's this thing, yoi."

Ignoring the brats 'duh' tone, he couldn't help but be smile as the young teen's hands motioned a replica of his crescent moustache.

"It's not a beard, it's a moustache."

Marco's head tilted to the side as he looked up at Newgate.

"You want your crew to be known as 'The White-moustache Pirates'? That's lame, yoi, really lame."

Newgate rolled an eye, torn between feelings of amusement and annoyance at Marco's antics.

"We'll discuss it later."

Nudging Marco towards their awaiting vessel, he couldn't help but think how this one stray would likely be the first of many of equally interesting and entertaining individuals.

* * *

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, faved or followed 'Strays'. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the first! Feel free to let me know what you think, and constructive criticism is always welcome :)**


	3. Impressions

Marco smiled as he finally located their first destination through his telescope –a telescope which may have belonged to Newgate before Marco commandeered it and retreated to the small crow's nest.

Possession was nine tenths of the law right?

Jumping down from his vantage point, Marco landed lightly on his feet beside his Captain.

"Rum Ridge is straight ahead. If the wind keeps up we should be there within a few hours yoi."

Newgate ignored the telescope that was being offered back to him.

The level of navigation knowledge Marco had acquired over the years had far outstripped any expectations Newgate had first had back in the shop.

The skills weren't perfect, and his ability to read the water's currents was limited, but his understanding of the winds, and his ability to predict weather changes was vast.

Reading the currents was something that Newgate was relatively proficient at, and he had used a large portion of their short journey to teach what he knew to Marco.

He didn't need to look ahead for the island.

If Marco said that they would be there in a few hours, chances are they would.

Shrugging his shoulders, Marco tucked the telescope under his arm.

It would be the last time the telescope would be offered to Newgate, it now being the sole property of Marco.

"Hey Oyaji?"

'Oyaji' had been a development over the past few days, one that Newgate couldn't say he minded.

It was definitely better than being called an old man outright.

"Mmm?"

"Pirates aren't very inventive are they? I mean, who names a place 'Rum Ridge'?"

Newgate gazed down at Marco who was evidently waiting for a verbal response.

"Whitebeard Pirates."

Marco straightened his back in confusion, as he processed the given answer.

"Hey!"

Newgate snorted at the indignant response.

It had been almost a continuous stream of debate, during their trip.

Marco was still firmly in favour of the 'Whitebeard Pirates', but as Newgate reminded him, he didn't have a beard, he had a moustache.

Whilst a name had yet to be settled, they had both agreed that the 'White-moustache Pirates' was definitely out of contention.

In truth, Newgate didn't mind the name all that much. It was growing on him, despite the obvious misstatement that the title gave.

It was however, an entertaining way to ruffle the brat's feathers.

* * *

"Oyaji, can I go have a look around town?"

Newgate looked up from the knot he was tying to ensure the vessel didn't float away with the outgoing tide, and nodded to the request.

"Just don't get lost."

Marco rolled his eyes and gave a half hearted salute.

Newgate merely shook his head at the brat's actions. His external behaviour may have screamed 'I don't give a rats' but Newgate knew that Marco would secretly relish in the fact that someone actually cared about his whereabouts.

He was right.

As soon as Marco's back was to his Captain, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was a foreign feeling to him.

In the past, the expression had often been 'get lost' followed by some rather creative swear words.

To have anyone care, truly care, about whether he returned or not was a novel experience.

As he wandered the streets Marco's thoughts were quickly consumed by how in a matter of a few short days, he'd been happier then he could ever remember in his lifetime.

Oyaji had spoken of wanting a family, more than just a crew, but a family.

Making a silent promise, Marco swore that his Captain's vision of a family would come true.

His good mood was soured as he walked head first into what felt like a slab of concrete.

Stepping he back he found that his 'slab of concrete' was really a large and solidly built man.

"Oh! Sorry man, I wasn't paying attention."

Side stepping the man, Marco didn't get very far before thick fingers wrapped themselves around his upper arm.

Turning back to the figure, Marco allowed himself to appear relaxed.

"Can I help you yoi?"

"Aren't you a bit young to be hanging round a place like this kid?"

Marco frowned at the patronizing tone.

"I'm a pirate. This is a pirate town. Why the hell do you care about how old I am?"

The grip tightened on his arm. He seriously needed to stop getting himself into these situations.

Why was everyone so hands-y with him? Was a bit of personal space really too much to ask for?

"Crew?"

The man's gaze clearly stated he didn't believe Marco was indeed telling the truth.

"Whitebeard Pirates."

"Never heard of 'em. Captain must be a nobody."

A growl slipped from Marco's lips.

Who did this guy think he was?

He wasn't going to stand by whilst _his_ family was insulted.

Enraged, Marco swung his free arm at the man, his fist clenched tight.

Noticing Marco's intentions, the man's form turned into diamond, effectively blocking the attack and shattering the bones within Marco's hand.

Marco's eyes widened slightly at the scene. He hadn't been prepared to fight a devil fruit user.

Returning the attack, a diamond fist was soon lodged in Marco's side, flinging him through a nearby wall.

Before he had a chance to get to his feet, Marco found the roof of the building caving in on top of him.

The broken segments obscured him from the view of the aggressor.

As the dust cleared, the man grunted, not at all fussed wether Marco was dead or alive, or even whose building he had knocked down.

If the kid couldn't take a punch, then he shouldn't be carrying such a cocky attitude.

Deciding that his business was finished, the man wandered away in search of a tavern.

Marco groaned at the weight that was pressing down on him, the worst of it crushing his chest.

Shifting slightly in what little room he had under the beam, Marco was able to bend his arms back to be able to place both palms next his chest. His right hand throbbed painfully but he knew he had to get out from where he was before he could do anything about it.

Taking in what little air he could between the weight and the pain of his definitely cracked ribs, Marco pushed against the beam.

His movements were slow as he strained to take the load.

With more room to take in air, Marco soon found the strength to push the debris away from himself completely.

Stumbling out of the wreckage, he slumped against a remaining segment from the wall.

That had not been fun.

Gingerly, Marco used his left hand to prod at his damaged right hand.

A hiss of pain escaped before Marco could stop it.

The damage felt to be extensive, but nothing that would last.

Quickly scanning the area for any prying eyes, Marco shifted further into the shadow as a final precaution.

Satisfied that no one was going to see, he allowed his eyes to fall shut as he focused on the blue flames that licked over his body, healing anything that was broken, cracked or cut.

Feeling the trickling feeling of blood running down his face, Marco rubbed it with the back of his hand, sighing as he took note of how much he had bled.

Why did head wounds have to bleed so much?

Things would be so much easier if all of his wounds had been internal.

Pushing to his feet, Marco weaved his way out of the streets, back to the harbour.

As he neared, Marco prayed to any God that felt like listening, for his Captain to not see him before he could destroy the evidence that marked his face.

The Gods were not on his side.

As Marco jumped on board, Newgate was already taking in his blood smeared face, the concern written in his gaze.

"You alright there brat?"

"I'm fine yoi."

Newgate rotated his shoulders, as he sat up in the chair he had been resting in.

Marco could be as 'fine' as he wanted to be, but Newgate was not going to allow him to get away without finding out what had happened to his brat first.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

Newgate sighed. He could already sense that this was going to be harder than a dentist extracting teeth from a terrified patient – without anaesthetic.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"Maybe."

"So?"

It was Marco's turn to sigh as he realised that Newgate, wasn't going to let it go.

"I took a hit and went through a wall. Happy?"

"Do we need to go find a doctor?"

"No."

Marco turned away from his Captain as he muttered angrily under his breath, almost too quietly for Newgate to hear.

"Not unless he can heal my pride."

Whilst the sight of his brat hurt was no laughing matter, Newgate couldn't help but be amused and a little impressed by Marco.

If he had any lingering doubts about Marco being special they had definitely been quashed now.

Even someone his own size, after being put through a wall would have probably had more damage than a simple cut and nothing broken.

Marco meanwhile, slipped below deck.

He didn't want Newgate to examine him or the situation too closely.

_Out of sight, out of mind_.

At least he hoped that would work.

Whilst Marco wanted to believe in his Captain completely, he didn't feel he was ready to share his devil fruit powers with him just yet.

It was the reason he had been turned away by so many before.

Now it just seemed like second nature to hide his powers.

Captain's needed crews that could swim. The ocean was a dangerous place and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ever find himself in the water.

He was a liability.

Ducking into the small bathroom, Marco examined the blood in the mirror. The stream down his face had already started to dry and was flaking in some areas.

Washing his face until nothing remained, Marco searched around the cabinet until he found a small bandage.

Placing it on his forehead, where the cut should have been Marco sighed.

He couldn't even remember how long it took normal people to heal.

One week? Two weeks? A month?

...

...

Surely not a month...

Marco released another sigh.

He'd just have to play it by ear.

* * *

"Oi brat! You're in charge of the boat. I'm heading to the tavern."

A non-committal grunt was the only response that Newgate received, the sound echoing its way out of the men's quarters.

Since returning to the ship, Marco had made himself scarce.

Currently he was seated on his bunk, pouring his energy into examining the maps they had acquired on the previous island.

Plotting their journey was easy enough for him to do. What would be important were the adjustments to allow for the wind and water currents, which could either work for or against them.

The size of their boat meant that they would have to be smart with the provision that were selected. The last leg of their journey had been short, but the next part was likely to take almost twice as long.

They were going to have to find someone who knew more about organising food than he did.

He was a burn water type of guy.

If it wasn't store bought (or stolen in most cases), he didn't eat it.

However it was his job to work out how long it would take before their next opportunity to restock.

"Brat, need you to come meet someone."

Marco almost fell off his bunk at the sound of Newgate's voice.

He hadn't been expecting him back so soon.

Glancing out the porthole, the sun disclosed the fact that he had been absorbed in his maps longer than he thought he had been.

Shifting his stuff to one side, Marco hurried up to the deck and straight into an introduction.

"Jozu, Marco. Marco, Jozu."

"YOU! WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING HERE?!"

The side of Newgate's mouth pulled down at Marco's outburst.

This wasn't good.

Putting two and two together, Newgate knelt down on one knee, to be eye level with Marco.

Jozu shifted his stance subtly as he watched the stare down that was occurring between the pair.

The kid wasn't happy.

Hell, he wouldn't be happy if he was being asked to accept a new crew member who had beaten him earlier in the day either.

Marco met Newgate's gaze without hesitation. There was no way he wanted that guy on their crew. Using the first piece of ammunition that sprang to mind, Marco started to protest against the newest Whitebeard Pirate.

"He's a devil fruit user."

"The Whitebeard Pirates will accept anyone who is a child of the sea."

The conviction in Newgate's voice, left Marco in a state of shock, unable to do anything but bob his head in agreement.

Maybe he had finally found his home.

Breaking out of his thoughts Marco turned back to their newest family member, attitude firmly back in place.

"I only take orders from my Captain."

Whitebeard threw his head back as his laughter rang out.

_Cheeky brat_.

Marco smiled slightly, before excusing himself.

"I have to finish looking at the maps."

Jozu quirked his eyebrows at the disappearing figure, a clear sign that he stood by his assumption of the kid being a brat.

Newgate smirked as his laughter subsided.

"He's more than he looks."

Clearly still unimpressed Jozu crossed his arms over his chest.

The strength of his Captain, he would not question. There weren't many people that he'd met that had enough brute strength to take him out (a story that he was determined not to share).

The kid however, was a different story.

Newgate understood Jozu's reservations, but he also knew that they were ill-founded.

Leaning back in his seat Newgate closed his eyes, allowing the last rays of sun to pour over his face.

How best to make him understand?

Finding his answer Newgate cracked open a single eye.

"Kid doesn't look like you just put him through a wall does he?"

Jozu's arms fell back to his side as he mentally catalogued Marco's injuries.

When he put a normal person through a wall (not that he made a habit out of it or anything, it just seemed that walls were always conveniently present), they would often come out of it with a half a dozen broken bones and a concussion... providing of course they were still conscious.

However, the kid had been strutting around on deck, with no outward signs of any pain, broken limbs, or a concussion.

In fact, if it weren't for the small bandaid on his forehead, there would have been no evidence of the incident at all.

...Perhaps there was more to the kid after all.

Jozu meet Newgate's gaze and nodded.

"Understood, Sir."

Newgate grunted as his eye slid back shut.

"Don't call me 'Sir', brat."

* * *

**...And then there were two... Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed/followed/faved 'Strays'! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! **


	4. I am NOT a chicken!

**Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. I thought it was ready and then realised that I wasn't happy with it... hopefully you'll enjoy the revamped version better!**

* * *

Marco awoke with the sun, as had been his habit for as long as he could remember.

The world was a beautiful and dangerous place.

So when daylight shone, Marco made the most of it.

Heading into the boat's small kitchen, he managed to locate an apple for breakfast.

Taking a generous bite, Marco frowned slightly as he took a closer look at what food they had.

Based off his estimates they would definitely have enough to last them the next leg of the journey, however their variety of food was going to be limited by what they physically had, and what they, or really the others, could cook.

If only going off his own experience, Marco knew that Oyaji was rather laissez faire in his approach to gaining crew members. He'd personally have to make a more concentrated effort at their next port to find someone with the ability to cook, and preferably cook something edible.

With another 'crunch' of his rapidly disappearing breakfast, Marco made his way out onto the deck.

Surprisingly, it was not as empty as he anticipated with his Captain already up and about, checking the riggings and making minor adjustments.

"Morning, Oyaji. Nav's all ready for us to set sail, yoi."

Finishing off his task, Newgate shook his head in the negative.

"We need one more from in town."

Marco didn't need to ask what they needed 'one more' of. Whilst he understood the implication of the words, however he hadn't been expecting to pick up another crew member from Rum Ridge.

Although, considering the selection of 'lost souls' that inhabited the town, it was understandably a convenient place to hunt down another crew member.

Pausing to think on it a bit longer, Marco nodded his head absently.

After all, they were only a small crew of three and small crews often became targets of larger, vicious ones.

Sometimes Marco forgot how small they really were.

With Newgate's imposing height and now Jozu's similarly large frame, the boat seemed to be rapidly dwarfed by the men it carried, giving the appearance of a bigger crew.

Newgate meanwhile stretched out his back, enjoying the satisfying 'pop' sounds that emitted from his joints.

He too was a naturally early riser, finding that the early mornings were often the most peaceful times where he could take the time to think.

Newgate still couldn't believe his luck having found two devil fruit users for his crew.

Marco may have thought of his as a 'curse', but Newgate firmly believed that once the brat accepted the powers, and actually took the time to develop them, no matter what his power was, it would be a huge advantage to the kid.

Despite the benefits that came with having a devil fruit, Newgate knew it would be unsafe for the three of them to set sail with no one that was able to swim in an emergency.

Granted, there wouldn't be much an average person would be able to do, if he or Jozu were to fall in the ocean. However they might be able to keep them from sinking completely, giving the rest of the crew enough time to get whoever it was back on board.

Not to mention, the individual that had the most chance of falling in was by far Marco.

The brat had a strange compulsion to jump straight down from the crow's nest rather than climbing down like a normal individual.

Newgate grinned slightly as a phrase surfaced in his mind.

_Being normal is overrated_.

When Jozu finally surfaced for the day, Newgate decided that it was time to make a move.

"Brat, you're with me. Jozu you're on watch."

Not hesitating for a response, Newgate strolled towards town, Marco hot on his heels.

Vaguely recalling that the tavern was where his Captain had found Jozu, Marco was eager to steer away from the town's numerous 'watering holes'.

"We'll need a chef of some kind."

Newgate glanced at Marco, wordlessly asking for further reasoning.

"Don't particularly want anyone contracting scurvy or dying any time soon."

Accepting the reasoning, they shifted direction slightly, towards the part of town where the food was of a higher calibre.

To be honest, Newgate hadn't really given much thought to what roles he would need people to fulfil on board.

He knew that they'd need someone to cook eventually, that was obvious, (especially after the first night when he'd asked Marco to 'throw something together' for dinner... **never** **again**), but he hadn't previously thought to selectively choose anyone.

He'd been aiming for a more natural acquisition of family members, a who-ever, when-ever, why-ever, where-ever, type of approach.

However, his brat had a point, so a chef that could swim was on their menu for this evening.

A grin graced Newgate's face in a subconscious response to his internal humour.

The expression remained in place as the pair entered the restaurant district.

They paused simultaneously as a young man – young to Newgate, but a little bit older than Marco, came crashing out of a building.

Stalking behind the man, was a second individual, his face as red as a sunburnt lobster with a ridiculously tall chef's hat, indicating him to be the head chef.

"I've had enough your shit, you shitty brat! You're FIRED!"

"Fired?! I'm the best damn cook you have, you half-bit chef! You wouldn't recognise quality cooking if it was stuffed down your throat!"

"YOU'RE FIRED AND THAT'S FINAL!"

With that, the older man stormed back inside, leaving the young man visibly shaking in anger.

Having watched the scene unfold silently, Marco and Newgate shared a glance, both grinning slightly.

What were the odds?

The pair moved in to their newest crew member, even if he didn't know it yet.

Waiting for the young man to finish blowing off steam the pair continued to watch him.

He, like Marco, was a normal height for his age, and was clearly passionate about his food.

Exactly the type of individual they were after.

Finally feeling the effect of having two people stare at him, the man turned his attention away from the shop and its owner that he had been cursing.

"What?"

Marco decided to answer the question with one of his own.

"You're a chef then?"

Slightly miffed at having to be asked whether he was a chef or not, the man was curt in his response.

"Yes and I'm a damned good one at that."

His next comment was directed back at the shop front.

"Some people just don't recognise TALENT!"

Waiting patiently for the outburst to subside, Newgate eventually chose to refocus the new brat's attention.

"Can you swim?"

Startled by the random nature of the question his automatic defences flared up.

"What?! Why do you–"

"Can you swim?"

Bowing to the pressure of Newgate's gaze, he bit out an answer.

"Yes! Alright? Jeeze, what is this, twenty questions or something?"

"No, but we are looking for a chef who can swim to join my crew."

The man paused.

This had to be a joke.

Nobody had asked him to join their crew.

Not since the rumours had spread about how he had been dumped on the island by his last crew.

Admittedly, it hadn't helped matters that he'd managed to get fired from the majority of the restaurants on the island.

"Me? Aren't there of plenty others around that you could ask? You don't know anything about me."

Newgate looked pointedly at the young man; he didn't have to be told to know.

He'd heard the rumours when he was in the tavern talking with Jozu, a young chef with an attitude that few could handle. As the brat's new Captain, that would be his call to make, not that of old pirate gossip's that could no longer walk straight be they on land or sea.

Marco took a different approach, sticking out his hand.

"I'm Marco."

Instincts catering for a preoccupied mind, copied the action, shaking the offered hand.

"Thatch."

Marco smirked.

"So, Thatch, you're a chef, you can swim and you are currently looking for a new job."

Thatch laughed as he let their hands fall apart.

"You got me there. I guess I am looking for a new job."

"Well then, welcome aboard."

Newgate smirked at his brat's ingeniousness.

Having accomplished what they had set out to achieve Newgate eyed off a local establishment that offered the promise of cheap drinks.

Marco picked up the look his Captain was exuding, and whilst he enjoyed a drink as much as the next person, he really needed to go over their stocks with Thatch.

"Why don't you and I head back to the markets and pick up any supplies you might need and we'll meet back at the boat?"

Thatch shrugged his shoulders casually.

"Sure. See you later Captain."

Newgate grunted slightly at the formal title, but otherwise left the youngest crew members to their own devices.

The pair wandered through the open air market place as Marco recited most of what he could remember to be in their stocks.

"Sounds like you've got most of the basics. I'll just need to pick up a few other pieces."

With a quick sleight of hand, Marco lightened the pocket of a drunken passerby and tossed the bag of coins to Thatch.

"Let me know if you need anymore."

Thatch looked at him questioningly, weighing up the bag in his hand.

"How'd you do that?"

Marco grinned slyly at the person he could quickly see becoming his 'partner is crime'.

"It's quite simple really."

In a flash, Thatch's hands were free of their load, Marco passing the bag between his hands.

"It just takes a bit of practise."

The pair continued their conversation as Thatch 'purchased' the items he would need.

"You don't want to raise suspicion. Pay the person and then, when their focus isn't on whether they received the right change or not, you move in. Simple."

When both were laden with an armful of groceries, they made their way back to the bay.

"We should go for a swim before we head off."

"You? Sure. Me? No way."

"What! Come on! Don't be such a baby!"

Picking up on Marco's attempted silent treatment, Thatch tried a different tact.

"Don't tell me you can't swim."

Marco deadpanned.

"I can't swim."

Thatch, having a flare for the dramatics, jumped backwards, his free arm flying into the air in mock horror.

"I said not to tell me!"

Marco shook his head in amusement. At least Thatch would make their long voyages interesting.

"Come on, we better get back before Oyaji get's worried."

Thatch raised an eyebrow at the choice of language but otherwise didn't comment. The two couldn't seriously be related, could they? But then... why would Marco call the Captain Oyaji?

Shrugging his shoulders, Thatch decided that it was a mental puzzle he wasn't mentally prepared to un-puzzle.

The quite atmosphere that had been created by Thatch's internal musings, didn't last.

Silence had never been his style.

"I can teach you how to swim you know?"

Somehow, even if he didn't have a devil fruit, Marco could still see himself drowning if he let Thatch 'teach' him how to swim.

"No thanks."

As their boat finally came back into view, Marco couldn't help but thank the God's that he would be able to escape Thatch's persistent attempts at getting him to swim.

He should have learnt by now that the God's had it out to get him.

"Come on you chicken."

For reason's Thatch didn't have the foresight to know, Marco's shoulders tensed at the jibe, a tick mark forming at the back of his head.

"I'm not a chicken."

Thatch, never having been one to understand when enough was enough continued with his teasing.

"Are you sure? After all chickens are birds that naturally avoid the water. They're also flightless, much like yourself.

Marco's muscles strained with his attempts to not let his frustrations out.

_Almost there. Almost there. Don't attack the newbie. Almost there. Calm. Calm response._

"I'd like to see you try and fly."

"We're not talking about flying, we're talking about swimming."

_Deep breath in... Exhale... Repeat... Respond. _

"I'm not going swimming."

As the pair made their way across the grass to the wharf, Thatch tucked the fist of his free arm under his armpit to give the impression of a wing.

"Bokbokbok–boooook!"

It was Thatch's horrendous chicken impersonation that finally tipped Marco over the edge.

"I'm not a bloody chicken."

In a movement to fast for Thatch to fully comprehend, he found himself flat on his back, a blue flamed phoenix attacking him from above.

The two older crew mates blinked at the commotion, an errant thought going to the food that had been left abandoned.

Jozu broke out of his trance after a few moments of Marco's pecking and scratching away at Thatch and turned his attentions to his Captain.

"Should I go pull Marco off the new kid?"

Newgate let his head rest atop his interlinked fingers as he watched the pair roll around on the grass.

Neither of them was seriously trying to hurt each other... Well... Marco may have been trying, but his heart wasn't truly in it.

"Nah. Let 'em be."

Jozu shrugged and went back to watching the pair with amusement.

He wasn't angry at the brat for accusing him of having a devil fruit like he had the plague when he in turn had one.

Marco's form was definitely a rarity amongst an already rare object, and there were people in this world that would do anything to get their hands on such an entity.

He could only imagine what would happen to the kid if some snot-nosed noble ever caught sight of such a majestic creature.

It was then Jozu promised that he would look out for the boy.

He exhaled slightly as he came back to reality. Judging by the 'mock fight' that was still occurring, he was going to have to keep an eye on both of the brats... at least until they grew up some more.

Thatch, despite his situation, couldn't help but laugh at the irate Marco.

"You're right dude. You're definitely not a chicken!"

He choked out a laugh mixed with pain as a particularly strong jab hit his stomach.

"At least you're exempt from swimming lessons!"

* * *

**I absolutely adore Thatch. **

**He is a sweetie that didn't deserve the fate he got... but I am not Oda, so I cannot change it no matter how much I wish I could :'(**

**Thank** **you to everyone who has faved, reviewed and followed Strays, your support means a lot to me. Make sure to let** **me know what you thought of this chapter!**


	5. Cast Away

"What do you mean you can't fly?"

Marco groaned.

"It means what it means Thatch. I can't fly."

Thatch continued to stare at Marco. His face frozen in a moronic combination of a slack jaw, wide eyes and eyebrows shooting dangerously close to his hairline.

"But you're a phoenix! If you can't fly what _can_ you do?!"

Marco ran a palm down his face in exasperation.

Ever since he'd revealed his form three days ago, Thatch had been on his case trying to find out the inner workings of his other form.

"_Why hadn't the flames burnt?" _

"_Where'd you find the fruit?" _

"_Do you have to do a full transformation or can you just change parts of your body?" _

"_Is it really as gross to eat as the rumours say?"_

"_So, you must heal really fast hey?"_

"_You're kind of pretty as a bird... Have you ever tried to pick up girls with it?"_

To which he had answered:

"_They only burn if I want them to."_

"_In the forest."_

"_Parts... No I won't show you!"_

"_Yes."_

"_Yes."_

"_What!?"_

The last one had definitely thrown him, with some rather unfortunate and awkward consequences...

Ones which he would rather leave buried in the depths of his mind, never to be resurfaced again, providing fate could be so kind.

However, it was the most recent question about his ability, or inability, to fly that had left the newest member trailing behind Marco, trying to gage if he was serious or merely pulling his leg.

"You have to be able to fly! You're a mythical bird!"

"Not all birds fly, yoi."

At this Thatch clamped his hands down on Marco's shoulders, shaking him back and forth.

"Mythical! MYTH-I-CAL!"

Bringing his arms up inside of Thatch's to rest his own hands on the aforementioned shoulders, Marco returned the favour.

"I. Know."

A smirk then graced Thatch's lips. It was a smirk that had Marco torn. He loved it when he and Thatch were planning to do some 'stealth practise' on Jozu or Oyaji, but loathed it when it was directed at him.

The smirk meant only one thing.

Thatch had a crazy scheme that may or may not be a stroke of genius.

"I'm going to teach you how to fly."

_Nope_. _Not this time_.

Marco was saved from having to answer by Oyaji, who had finally taken pity on him.

"Oi brat."

The pair snapped to attention like startled animals, not being able to distinguish between which 'brat' was being called for.

Newgate couldn't help but snort at how receptive the pair had become to the term.

He'd noticed the dilemma earlier, and had since been trying to re-train Thatch to respond to 'kid' but it didn't seem to have the same effect as 'brat' continued to have.

"Don't you two have things to be doing?"

"Yes."

"No."

The opposing answers came simultaneously.

"Marco, go do what you need to. Thatch, find something to do that doesn't involve annoying Marco."

Thatch pouted as Marco quickly scurried up to the crow's nest, under the proviso of checking that they were still on course.

Marco released a sigh of relief as he leant against the mask.

The wind ran through his hair and across his skin, the salt taking over his sense of smell.

Pulling out his telescope, Marco surveyed the view.

They weren't expected to arrive at the next island for a few more days, however with the weather so clear, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of their destination.

Focusing carefully along the horizon, Marco's efforts weren't in vain, as a small speck of an island came into view.

Comparing the location of the island to the direction of the ship, Marco nodded, pleased that they were on track – not that they wouldn't be, but you never knew.

Marco raised the instrument again to his eye, this time scanning the wider surroundings.

One could never be too careful when it came to enemy ships sneaking up behind you.

His steady gaze had almost completed a full circuit of the waters before his attention was pulled back by a figure on a lump of wood bobbing on the waves.

"Oyaji! There's someone in the water!"

Newgate looked up at his brat, before following the direction he was looking in.

Thatch and Jozu, were soon by Newgate's side as the three of them located the figure for themselves.

The side of Newgate's mouth pulled down.

He'd heard many a story where an ambush was carried out by using a decoy of a 'lost at sea' individual.

"Brat is there any ships out further?"

Using his vantage point Marco searched the area beyond the person for any lurking boats.

"Negative. Coast is clear, yoi."

Processing the new information, Newgate weighed up their options.

They could leave the person there and continue on course.

That would mean certain death for the individual, providing they weren't dead already.

Their second option was to go fish him out of the water and work out what needed to be done from there.

"Jozu, change course. Thatch, prepare to go for a swim. Marco–"

"On it Oyaji. Jozu, 45 degrees south-west."

Taking the helm, Jozu made the directed adjustments, keeping a close eye on the individual they were heading for.

No use getting to the guy only to run him over.

Thatch meanwhile stripped out of his shirt and shoes, organising a length of rope that would be able to pull him and their 'floating friend', as Thatch had so kindly dubbed him, back on board.

"Change four degrees west... Thatch you'll be off starboard."

"Starboard?"

Newgate glanced down at 'brat number three'. The brat was an amazing cook but his knowledge of a ship still left much to be desired.

"The right side kid."

Grinning up at his Captain, Thatch ran his hand up the back of his head shaggy hair.

"Thanks Pops. I'll remember next time."

Newgate merely rolled his eyes and took hold of the other end of the rope, wrapping it around his hand twice to ensure he wouldn't lose his grip.

As they gained on the figure Marco took charge of the situation.

"Okay, on my call Thatch go for it."

"Rodger that."

Marco leant on the edge of the crow's nest, giving him a better view.

The wind had picked up slightly, and despite how frustrating Thatch could be sometimes, he didn't want to leave his brother in the water and longer than necessary.

"Now."

Pushing off the railing, Thatch dove beneath the water's surface, Marco keeping a keen eye on his shadow.

Popping up next to the wooden structure, Thatch attached his end of the rope to it as securely as he could manage given the circumstances.

Swimming to the back of the structure, Thatch pushed his body out of the water and onto the space behind their floating friend.

"All yours Pops."

Newgate didn't break a sweat as he pulled the pair back towards the boat.

As they neared the boat's side, Newgate dropped the excess rope, holding it down with his foot.

With freed hands, Newgate reached down to haul the body onboard, before offering a hand to Thatch.

Once Thatch was on board, the attention turned once more to their newest passenger.

"You reckon he's dead?"

Marco, having cleared the coast for any ships once more, leapt down beside Thatch, causing him to jump.

"Why don't you prod him and find out?"

The sarcasm in Marco's tone was completely missed by his newest brother.

"Me? Why do I have to prod him?!"

Thatch may have seen a number of dead bodies, it came with the territory of living in a Pirate town, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being the one to establish whether or not the individual was indeed dead.

"No one's prodding anything."

Marco and Thatch sent sheepish looks to their Captain, who merely rolled his eyes at them.

Jozu, who had joined them in standing around the body, decided to take the first step. Kneeling down on one knee, he pressed two thick fingers against the man's neck, searching out a pulse.

The fingers shifted a few times before coming to rest on the small sign of life.

"Pulse is weak."

Newgate nodded at the information.

Pulling a small blade out of his boot, Newgate handed it to Jozu.

"Check he's still breathing."

Marco and Thatch inched closer to watch what Jozu was doing. Both knew how to check for someone's pulse, but how could they check if someone was breathing using a knife?

Thatch's method had usually consisted of having to press his ear against the person's chest.

A most unpleasant experience when the individual was not quite as 'dead' as first anticipated.

Jozu meanwhile had taken the blade, and was now holding it on an angle just below their 'guest' nose.

The seconds passed, and Marco edged closer, still unsure of what they were looking for.

His movements were stilled as Newgate clamped a hand on his shoulder.

Newgate murmured to him quietly.

"Look for the fog."

Doing as instructed, Marco's eyes widened slightly as a faint fog appeared, disappeared and reappeared, in even intervals.

"So, he's breathing, yoi?"

Jozu, retracted the blade and stood, passing it back to its owner.

"It would appear so. Regulated breathing, so he's definitely unconscious."

Thatch looked at his older crewmate incredulously.

"How can you tell that? He could just be faking."

Jozu shook his head in the negative.

"You ever tried regulating your breathing? If you start thinking about it, your breathing pattern changes. His is constant, meaning that he's out of it."

Feeling much more confident after Jozu's evaluation, Thatch donned a grin.

"Can I prod him just to check?"

Three resounding 'no's and a bump on the head, courtesy of his Captain, were his answer.

"Get him dried off and onto one of the bunks. There's not much we can do until he comes around."

Jozu nodded, scooping up the man and taking him below deck.

Thatch, realising his own partially drenched form, trailed behind the pair to find a towel and dry pants.

Newgate's gaze was steady as he watched their retreating forms.

He'd taken a risk by bringing the man on board.

He just hoped that he'd made the right decision.

"I'll go fix our course."

Newgate, turned down Marco's offer.

"No. I'll do it."

Marco watched his Captain scan the horizon.

It was clear he wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with the situation.

Deciding to take some of the weight of Newgate's mind, Marco made his way back up the rigging.

The hours passed slowly but Marco didn't leave his post.

He refused to be lulled into a false sense of security.

He would relax when the stranger was awake and they could actually find out what was going on, but until then, he wouldn't let himself be distracted.

* * *

Marco needed to loosen up... at least that was Thatch's opinion.

Having delivered a late lunch to Pop's and Jozu, Thatch only had two people left to feed, himself, and Marco.

Balancing the two dished along one arm, he carefully made his way to the crow's nest.

"Yo. Budge over."

Marco rolled his eyes but did as requested, accepting the bowl he was being offered.

"What is it?"

"Risotto di Pesce."

Thatch didn't appreciate the blank stare Marco was gave him.

"What?"

Sighing at the lack of culinary knowledge his poor friend possessed, Thatch broke it down as much as he could.

"It's a type of rice with fish. Just eat it."

"Planned on it, yoi."

The pair ate in relative silence, whilst Marco continued to scan the ocean.

"There's no one coming. Not for him."

Marco looked at him sceptically.

"You can't know that. There's no guarantee until he wakes up and we get some information from him."

"He's unarmed, unconscious and on a boat with multiple devil fruit users. No one's coming to get him. His level of dehydration suggests he'd been in the water for hours. An ambush doesn't go into this greater length just to attack another pirate ship."

Marco eyed his brother.

"You've thought about this a fair amount."

Thatch merely shrugged his shoulders as he collected their finished plates and utensils.

"When you're cooking for so few people, there's spare time to think... Of course he could be an axe murder who during his escape from the surviving villagers, fell off a cliff, got eaten by a 60 foot sea-king, causing the poor thing to get indigestion and throw him back up. Either way, no one's coming for him."

Marco sweat dropped at the other possible explanation Thatch had devised.

New rule.

Don't leave Thatch alone with his thoughts for long periods of time.

The pair was pulled out of their conversation by the sound of Jozu's voice.

"Oyaji. He's coming round."

Sharing a glance, the two pushed at each other lightly as they scrambled to be the first down on deck.

Newgate smirked slightly as his second and third shadows came rushing after him. He let them think that they were actually going to be able to come with him to meet their newest guest, before shutting the door behind him.

He'd heard Thatch's thoughts on the matter.

It was best he talked to the man first, rather than throwing him straight to the wolves.

His grin grew larger as he heard the whines of his son's carry through the door.

"No fair!"

"Oyaji, so not cool, yoi!"

Navigating his way through the smaller sections of the boat, Newgate took a seat beside the visitor's temporary bed.

The man was seated upright, his head hanging in his hands.

"You alright there son? You've been for a bit of a swim."

The man almost jumped out of his checked print shirt.

_How on earth had a man of that size snuck up on him?_

"Name's Newgate."

Realising that the large man was waiting for his answer, he tilted his head in respect.

"I'll live... Thank you for picking me up."

A thoughtful hum escaped Newgate's lips, whilst the man continued.

"They call me 'Flower Sword Vista', I'm a magician."

Newgate's eyebrow's rose.

A magician?

Well that was certainly unexpected.

"I was, ah, debuting my new act involving a Sea King, when its mother showed up..."

Newgate blinked once then twice.

A magician, performing an act with a baby Sea King, ended up drifting on a piece of wood.

...

...

...

"Guararararara!"

_The brat wasn't too far off after all. Eaten by a Sea King indeed... _

Vista sat silently, unsure of what to do as Newgate laughed freely.

Calming himself down, Newgate slapped Vista's back as he headed towards the exit.

"You got somewhere to go Magician Vista?"

"No sir."

"Then welcome aboard son."

* * *

**What a way to end up on someone else's ship... I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know if you liked it, hated it, loved it, whatever! I'd love to hear from you :)**

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, faved, and reviewed Strays, it means a lot to me.**

**To my Guest Reviewers:**  
**Guest 1: It's a shame really that Thatch didn't get much time in the manga or the anime, but hopefully we can rectify that situation, at least somewhat, here ;) Me too and thank you.**

**Guest 2 'Lazy to log in': Hahaha, love the guest user name! That would have been brilliant (although I don't think Marco would have agreed)! Thank you, and I totally agree!**


End file.
